BURPING TO A HALT

Am I the only person who uses a mobility electric scooter in a store, which runs out of steam?  Just as I turned the corner by the stock cubes display the scooter burped to a stop.  That folks was the end of my uninhibited, independent,  browsing and shopping. 

A  rather good looking, young-ish, lively store assistant with laughing eyes arrived to help.  Oh dear…. the store had two of these scooters and the other was in use. Nothing for it but to disconnect the empty battery and pull me round, he holding the front basket which was loaded, with me continuing to steer the apparatus. 

Where did I want to go to next….honestly… no… I could browse and shop….. he was there to assist, etc. etc.  I couldn’t, I  just couldn’t  take my time, weaving in and out of aisles and corners, checking on things that caught my eye while reliant on a minder, however nice he was.  If I had been a good bit younger, I might have revelled in keeping his undivided attention.  But, as it was, there were three more items I definitely wanted to find and then, with this rickety steed, it was onward to the check out. 

Nobody batted an eyelid when I zoomed off up the aisles at the start of my shopping journey on the scooter.  An awful lot of people stared as the vehicle  was ignominiously pulled  into the ‘pit-stop’ by its basket with me astride its seat. 

RESCUING A DISTRESSED FLEDGLING.

The fledgling pigeon fell straight into the water below the safe haven of the nest it had hatched in that was resting on a pipe under a pier.   Sadly, not really a viable nest for it to be launched from. I first met this junior bird, still with its soft furry juvenile feathers, swaddled as you see here.

Pigeon looks uncertain here, soon after its arrival.

At this stage, (later) it was relaxed, drying out and taking in the world it had arrived at - our house. It didn't even mind a gentle one finger stroking of its head.

When hubby rescued it from treading water in the river, he found that the bird's feet were totally clogged up with relatively heavy dried matter from the nest. It didn't stand much of a chance of survival like that. He set about working on freeing the claws.  The animal rescue people were not in the least bit interested in this common specimen. We were told to place it back where it had been so its parents could look after it.  The risky location of the nest was explained, but they were adamant it should go back.   If it had been a rare avian specimen, I bet they would have been tripping over themselves to assist. 

The options, we decided, were to go back and see if parent pigeons were nearby the nest, and/or leave this healthy juvenile bird to its fate from predatory seagulls, or, wait a bit with it, if necessary returning home with the bird.  Hubby did this three times over a day and a half.  On one trip  he thought some jittery adult birds were in the vicinity, though not close to the nest.  Meantime, Pigeon lived in a box and hubby fed the bird.  On the second day, there was every sign that the wings were strengthening. He stayed with the bird while it fluttered around the garden, then finding its freedom, easily, it flew on to the ridge tiles of a neighbour's roof.  It sat there for twenty minutes or so, seemingly taking its bearings.  We like to think it was saying a  bird's farewell to us.

ANNUAL OPEN GARDENS - GENEROSITY-SEARCH AND RESCUE

There were some gardens open a few miles away, for the annual visiting Scotland's gardens. It would be hard to describe all that we saw. There were four gardens that were milling with interested people; each of them were very different. I marvelled at the generosity of house owners giving over their pride and joys to the tramping feet and ogling eyes of absolute strangers. We were all very well behaved, even the children. 

One show of flowers and bushes was planted out on the most exposed and arid plateau of land, just over an old quarry. the common question here was, "How do you get it all to grow?" Another husband and wife team had organically developed their elements of gardens over twelve years. I came away with the name of an unusual plant which I must note down for next year. A third was a complete surprise, one kiddie cried "It's a magic garden". All developed and terraced on a slope down to a little river that used to run some miles to long gone mill. There were so many nooks and garden corners to discover.

Out at sea, a rescue helicopter was searching, hovering and searching. It was rising and descending, moving onto clifftops and the scrub of the headland; more hovering and searching. The search and rescue helicopter is usually not good news, not unless the crew are successful with a live result. 

At tea with home baking, in the village hall, all part of the end of trail refreshment, I got talking to a disabled elderly lady and her husband who are visiting to help their daughter look after the grandchildren while son-in-law is being treated for a serious medical condition. During the conversation, I was told that the son-in-law was a local church minister. I soon realised that this was the man who kindly helped me and drove me home, in December 2010, when my car came off the road due to black ice. 

Here was the generosity of families supporting their loved ones. The couple had taken time out to view the open gardens, to benefit, even in the rain, from the different beauties in nature and also benefit, insofar as they could, from the welcome and friendliness of strangers, and also the calming distraction of those lovely and interesting gardens.

BRITAIN'S RESPONSE TO RESCUING PEOPLE

When British and other Nationals were advised to leave Egypt, the advice to them was the same, (when you could obtain information) as people have been receiving in Libya. The means of getting to an airport (or other exit point) was up to the individual. This guidance is very limited at the 'best' of times, and hardly works for for people who are stuck in the centre of bombarded areas (like war zones in or near Tripoli)or marooned in a desert or anywhere else construed to be the middle of nowhere.

The word has got to the British media by various means, that the response of the British Government to helping our citizens and anyone else, is woefully inadequate, indeed it is pathetic. While other countries have been getting their citizens and other nationals out of the danger zones, where they can, under media pressure, the very best Britain could offer, and very late in the proceedings, was one plane which got stuck on the tarmac for 10 hours going nowhere. Meanwhile, in television interviews, the Foreign Secretary of State, William Hague, sat in a high-backed winged leather armchair, looking serious and important, making disingenuous statements about Government concerns and rescue activities.

While the revolutionary turmoil continues apace in the Middle East, cut backs have been announced in the maintaining of, and staffing of British foreign embassies and legations. We will be told, no doubt, that the services given, (I think we now need to know what they are)can be offered in a more progressive,(which means radical) and efficient manner. If a large number of countries take the same view, there will be no-one to merge with, no country on which we can piggyback minimal services, or ask to act on our behalf for British nationals abroad. What value is Britannia, when she is internationally sinking into an abyss.

IS THERE MORE TO COME?

What else can happen this week? 

Monday night: the distinctive throbbing sound of a helicopter flying low over our rooftop was heard. The blades whizzed. It was not the type of craft we might see in these parts, for example, the air-ambulance is bright yellow. The helicopter hovered around for quite some time in the dark, particularly in one position not far away.

The reason: A seventeen year old lad had fallen over a cliff walk. The accident was, fortunately for him, seen and reported quite quickly. The life boat was alerted as were the coast guard and a search and rescue helicopter from further down the coast. The crew found the injured boy and winched him up taking him to hospital. Very few people survive falls in that area. We know much more about the survivors because they have lived to tell their tales. So far, I know of only one survivor who now apparently leads his daily life relatively physically unscathed. 

At about 10.15pm last night,(Tuesday 14th September) we heard the most awful crashing sound. Had our neighbour had an accident with a large tractor perhaps? There was nothing to be seen out of our window but the usual night scene of farm equipment at rest. The street was also quiet. Then we heard the crashing noise again. Hubby and I looked at one another. It couldn't be surely, not with the day of torrential rain and hailstones we had just had. Just as we verbalised our thoughts, the sky was rent with lightening twice in quick succession. 

Today is Wednesday, the week is not over yet.